I threw up three times before the pain ceased a bit. By then I was gulping for air, my head was spinning and my knees felt weak and wobbly when I tried to get up. I had to use the toilet paper dispenser as a grip to get back onto my feet, feeling utterly miserable, and very lonely.
Even though Doug hat hung me out to dry a few minutes ago I desperately wished for him to be here, support me and take me back home. But Doug was not here. He was there, engrossed with his regular lay on an evening he had described as our romantic get-together after our break up.
Had I really believed he would change? Laughing sarcastically I staggered out of the cubicle, bumped against the washbasin and flushed my mouth vigorously. The world around me swayed and wobbled and I felt feverishly hot. When I finally looked into the mirror blood-shot green-brown eyes met mine, surrounded by unruly black hair and a sweaty sheen on the forehead. On any other day I had the gothy looks down cold, but today I looked like a junkie on a trip gone bad. I was very lean, on the brink of ascetic, tall and fragile looking in my loose-cut dress slacks, even though I worked out regularly. One just didn't need mountains of muscle for bouldering and rock climbing, and Doug didn't like skin-tight clothes, so I didn't wear them.
I shot myself a disapproving glance, took a deep breath, and growled, "You look like shit."
"Excuse me?"
The voice behind me sounded taken aback and indignant, but slightly amused. I must have been quite the sight in my ailing condition, and I hadn't heard someone coming in. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, grabbing the edge of the washbasin when I turned around unsteadily, "I didn't mean you, I meant.." That's where my words trailed off and I had to swallow dryly.
Eyecandy had ascended from heaven and broken through the veils of my personal hell to grace me with his presence.
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